


Memoirs of a Messy Bitch

by Ladytalon



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Doctor/Patient, Fights, Gen, Humor, Kidnapping, Lust at First Sight, Medical Examination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29069829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon
Summary: It’s a pirate’s life for Dr. Ned as he gets more than he bargains for during a routine trip to Oasis.





	Memoirs of a Messy Bitch

There’s a first time for everything, Ned thinks to himself, but he’d never thought that there’d _ever_ be a first time for getting kidnapped by sand pirates. It’s like something out of an ECHO show except it’s really, truly happening. To _him_.

“You sure you really want me? I’m a little old to be runnin’ around with y’all out here – I doubt I could keep up,” Ned protests, but his heart isn’t really in it; it’s not like he has anything more important to do and this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to him in months. He’d been heading back to Jakobs Cove after refilling the Oasis med vendors at his brother’s request, and was ambushed within spitting distance of the Fast Travel. None of his captors seem very interested in talking to him aside from occasionally telling him to shut up. “There ain’t a lot of _runnin’_ in piracy, is there, ‘cause I just don’t think-”

“Shut _up_ ,” the nearest…deck hand? Swabbie? says. Whatever they’re called, they’ve clearly had enough of him talking.

Ned sighs heavily. “Fine, I’ll pipe down.”

“Finally,” one of the pirates grumbles. “Thank _God_.”

“Well, that’s kinda rude-”

“Either you shut yer gob or we’ll shut it for ya. _Forever_ ,” another pirate says with a leer that’s a little misleading because he’s either talking about death or a blowjob. If he’s threatening Ned with murder, that doesn’t make sense at all because they clearly want him for his expertise as a doctor. If he’s talking about sucking dick, that’s another thing entirely. Ned’s done his share of that and enjoyed it for the most part, but this particular crew looks and smells – and boy, do they ever _smell!_ \- as if they haven’t bathed in at least a decade. The thought of providing enforced oral services to anyone who smells this rank is more than enough reason for Ned to keep silent.

He sighs again and lifts his hands in a show of surrender, turning to look over the side of the sand skiff. It’s a good thing he doesn’t get carsick or… well, he certainly can’t really call it _sea_ sickness, because there’s no water. This observation is emphasized by the stink wafting towards him from his new companions, and Ned fans the air in front of his face in disgust. Not even the zombies smelled this damned bad.

The sand beneath the skiff stretches endlessly, their craft bouncing across it in ungentle motions that begin to have Ned reassess his earlier view on motion sickness. He’s pretty sure they’re just driving in circles because he recognizes the same rock formation coming up on the left. It’s probably to confuse him so that he’ll lose all sense of direction and be utterly dependent upon them since he won’t be able to escape. Ned doesn’t bother informing them that he could find his way back to Oasis just fine, because he sure as hell didn’t get to his age by being a moron and if this particular crew was made up of native Pandorans, they’d know it. 

The pirates finally decide to stop fucking around and get down to business, whereupon the skiff is steered towards a tiny settlement. By this time, Ned figures he’s been quiet long enough to deserve an answer. “Where we goin’?”

“This’s Coastal Caverns,” the blowjob pirate grunts at him. “Shaddup.”

“Take it easy; jeez.”

He’s hustled off of the skiff and down into the underwhelming, yet impressively filthy, pirate settlement of Coastal Caverns. After sitting down for so long in the skiff, it’s nice to be able to stretch his legs a bit. Ned looks around curiously as he’s prodded towards a rickety set of stairs. The sand pirates take him up to a small shanty atop a platform which looks as if it’s been installed there with only a wad of spit, a stick of gum, and a hasty prayer.

His patient is inside, smelling worse than all the other pirates combined, and half out of his mind with pain. Ned’s finally in his element, going up to examine the man and ordering his captors to bring him his doctor’s bag. “Alright, let’s see what’s goin’ on here,” he says calmly, shoving his arm out and beckoning. “Gimme that bag.” 

The handles of it are somewhat reluctantly placed in his hand, and Ned opens it up to see if they haven’t broken anything important before yanking out a surgical mask and tying it on. “If I die, _you_ die,” his patient snarls at him as he pulls his gloves on.

“Okie-dokie,” Ned says, patently unimpressed. “I heard that line lotsa times, an’ I’m still walkin’ around so whyn’t you just calm the heck down and tell ol’ Doctor Ned what the problem is.” His patient goggles at him in disbelief, having anticipated a much different reaction. Ned takes advantage of the momentary silence and moves in, stethoscope at the ready. “Lemme just take your vitals first, then we’ll get you out of this…uh… _this_ ,” he finishes, not knowing exactly how to best describe the wad of bedding beneath the other man.

There’s a slight rasp in the lungs and the man’s ears are nearly sealed shut with wax, but blood pressure looks good. Given that sand pirates always seem to look (and smell) like they’ve rolled themselves in used toilet paper, it’s a bit hard for Ned to tell if any of the filthy mess is an actual bandage. “Look, I’m gonna hafta take all this off ya.”

The pirate is still staring at him. “Whu…?”

Ned sighs and casts a look all around the place. “You lot wanna clear out? I gotta take his clothes off.”

“You can’t do that,” one of the midgets argues.

“’Less one or two of you’re hidin’ somethin’ extra beneath all that stink, it looks like y’all are a buncha dudes hangin’ together,” Ned growls. “Look, son, what’s your name?”

His patient eyes him apprehensively. “Blood Tooth.”

“Okay then, Mister Tooth, you want me to fix you up or you wanna die screamin’ ‘cause you’re scared things might get a li’l bit gay? Your choice.”

Blood Tooth decides upon ordering his henchmen out of the hut, with the exception of his first mate or whatever, who’s going to stick around to make sure Ned doesn’t murder him outright. While Ned _does_ still have a few vials of his zombie serum, he’s certainly not planning on wasting it on someone who smells this bad. “Get on with it,” the pirate groans. The first mate hovers close with a hand on his gun while Ned slices the layers of filthy clothing off, and gets mad when he’s chosen to dispose of the mess, but Ned couldn’t care less.

“If you got some water, this’d be a real nice time to bring it in,” Ned murmurs, squinting at a nasty-looking lesion on Blood Tooth’s leg. It’s hard to tell under all the grime, but the wound seems to have sent angry streaks of red up and down the leg. He pulls off the used pair of gloves and drops them on the ground. It could be a severe case of blood poisoning, which is still reversible, but until he can see the wound better he won’t know if the appendage can still be saved. “I gotta clean this out, which’ll hurt like a mother. Too early to tell if you’ll be hoppin’ for the rest of your life, Mister Blood, but I’ma try my best to save your leg.” Ned takes out an Anshin needle and uncaps it, setting it aside while he rummages through his bag in search of a clean pair of gloves.

“Not…leg,” Blood Tooth groans at him.

“Like I said, hopefully I can save it,” Ned repeats patiently. “You waited a mite long t’get this seen to, son. Things ain’t so bad nowadays with all the new fake limbs on the market, though. Better a lost limb than a lost life, ‘s what I like to say. Why, some of them new prostheses can be even better than a regular flesh-and-blood limb. I once replaced both legs on a woman who’d had hers chewed off by skags and you shoulda _seen_ her go once she healed up! That girl could haul some serious ass, I’m tellin’ ya.”

Blood Tooth perks up at this. “Where’s she – _ah!_ – now?”

“Now?” Ned shakes his head with a sigh. “Oh, she tried to outrun a train an’ lost. Almost made it, though,” he says in encouragement. “Where’s that water?”

The water that shows up a few minutes later looks like it has more bacteria in it than a Jakobs Cove boardwalk, but he supposes that it’ll have to do. Ned is starting to think that if he were paid to stand around and sigh in disgust, he’d soon rack up enough cash to buy out the Hyperion Corporation. He cleans the worst of the crusted whatever-it-is off of his illustrious patient’s leg, and is pleased to announce that it looks as though the leg can stay attached for the foreseeable future once enough medicine has been administered and the wound has been lanced. To that end, Ned requests several of the cleanest rags they have on hand and sets out a few more syringes while engaging in some small talk with his captor. “You got yourself a big ass pocket of pus in that leg, Mister Tooth, an’ it’s gonna hurt like a mother when I get in there and drain it, so if you got any alcohol nearby…well, I suggest you start chuggin’ it now.” Ned pauses and glances around. “I sure wouldn’t mind a sip of it, too.”

He’d have to wipe the mouth of the bottle off, first.

Blood Tooth barks out an order and Ned settles in to wait, trying to be nonchalant about looking to see if the pirate has any weapons handy. Well, any that he might lunge for in the heat of the moment. Ned has absolutely no illusions whatsoever about his patient trying to murder him immediately and, although hardly anything about his life has gone as planned, he’d rather stay alive long enough to see how he can possibly fuck it up even more. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, son. You pick a couple of your best boys from out there, and they can help us out.” They’ll help out by taking the first few rounds of Blood Tooth’s gun. Or the first swing of his sword. Or…well, whatever the hell it is that sand pirates use. He should’ve done more research before telling Zed that he’d be glad to help out; one of these days he’ll learn to watch his mouth.

The request is passed along and by the time enough cannon fodder have gathered around the bed to hold the man down, most of the bottle of rotgut has found its way down Blood Tooth’s throat. The stench of so many unwashed bodies cures Ned from wanting a drink, because he’d much rather be dead so he doesn’t have to inhale any more of the tainted air. “Alrighty then, boys, each of y’all grab a limb and hold ‘er down. He’ll be yellin’ fit to kill but that’s somethin’ can’t be helped.” Ned quickly packs the rags around the wound, picks up a scalpel, and leans in to make the incision. Blood Tooth lets out a drunken bellow that makes Ned grateful for not having a full bladder. “Hang in, we’ll be done soon,” Ned promises. “ _Hold_ him!” He presses on the sides of the wound, trying not to wince as his patient does indeed shoot the pirate closest to him. Bright yellow pus wells up from the cut Ned’s made, and he mops it up as best he can because there seems to be an unending supply of it. Another pirate meets his end and Ned ducks out of the way, feeling cold sweat forming on his brow while the gun waves wildly overhead. “Almost done,” he yells out, hunching his shoulders.

The infection looks to be finally drained and Blood Tooth starts to calm down since the pain is lessening. Ned blinks the sweat from his eyes and, placing his hands on either side of the leg wound, presses down and in to force any lingering pockets of pus out into the open. The greenish-yellow fluid is streaked with orange, so Ned keeps going until the only color he’s bringing out of the wound is untainted red. He cleans it up and sighs, lifting an arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Ish done?” Blood Tooth slurs.

Ned sweeps his medical bag to one side, grabs the half-empty bottle of hooch, and pours the rest of it into the wound before dropping to the floor with his arms covering his head. There’s a thunderous roar somewhere above him, complete with gunfire and unintelligible howls, but Ned stays right where he is until things quiet down. He’s still down there wondering if he should dare mention anything about stitches when he gets dragged to his feet and presented to one seriously pissed off pirate. “Now, I realized you might be thinkin’ of killin’ me but I gotta say that your leg should heal just fine now it’s all disinfected and such,” Ned says quickly. “I can stitch you up, which you might not appreciate just now, or I can show y’all how to boil rags an’ use ‘em as bandages. You let one bitty speck of dirt in there, and all that pain you just went through will be for nothin’.”

“ _Boil?_ ” Blood Tooth snarls at him. At first Ned’s sure that he’s just given the guy a fun new torture method, but it soon becomes clear that any kind of sanitary measures are a foreign concept. Which Ned should have figured out by now, since none of these men have ever heard of a bath before. He’s pretty sure they all have fleas, too.

“Well, sure you gotta boil your bandages! You show me to some water an’ a big enough pot, and I’ll get you fixed up right quick.” Ned waits while the pirates huddle together and their fleas get to courting each other, and he eyes the door just in case he needs to make a run for it.

He’s hustled outside and taken around the rocks to where a huge gate is, held in place by one of the crappiest ships he’s ever seen. Ned doesn’t get to see it for very long, because a hellaciously smelly bag suddenly gets jammed over his head and he’s forced to walk in circles…as if it’s not already obvious that he’ll be taken beyond the big gate. Most of the zombies he’d made in Jakobs Cove have more of a brain than these guys, he thinks disparagingly. “Oh boy, I wonder where you’re takin’ me now,” he recites dutifully, staring down at the circular tracks his boots have made in the sand. Because they hadn’t even bothered to cinch the fucking sack tight enough so that he couldn’t just look down and see where they’re going. It’s kind of cute, in a sad sort of way.

Ned is trotted in a tight circle for a few more minutes before they decide that he has to be thoroughly lost by now, and then the sack comes off. Of course he’s still right there by the gate and the SS Crapper, which kind of defeats the whole purpose of walking him in circles, but he’d rather not have the bag over his head any longer because it smells worse than five-day-old ass. So he loudly pretends not to know where they’ve taken him and staggers around a bit for effect, and they finally lift the damned gate to let him through.

He’s taken into a cave that turns out to be a cavern, and the nicest place he’s seen in Oasis yet. “Wow, this is awesome! Y’all use this place for secret meetings an’ stuff like that?” Ned asks, though his enthusiasm sours upon noticing the cluster of vendors up to the right. It _figures_ that Zed’s been here first. What a pain in the ass that is, he thinks irritably. “Let’s get a fire goin’ and…any of you fine folks bring a pot?”

Of course they haven’t, so he’s left to cool his heels right by the damned med vendor. Ned walks over and bumps the toes of his boots against it in an almost-but-not-quite kick, wishing he had one of those stickers that he’d used in Jakob’s Cove. Maybe one of his new best friends has a pen he could borrow so that he can just draw on the moustache.

Ned sighs and turns his attention to the Marcus Munitions vending machines, up at the stylized portrait of the man himself. He doesn’t think Marcus has ever been _that_ handsome, but then again Ned guesses that anyone who’s created a monopoly on the Pandoran gun trade can make himself look however he wants. He briefly considers whether or not it’s worth his time and effort to jimmy the lock. 

Deciding to err on the side of caution, because Marcus Kincaid is exactly the type of man to install some sort of booby trap on his vendors, Ned sighs again and tries to remember when he last trimmed his toenails. There’s bound to be a nightmare waiting for him the next time he takes off his socks.

The pot arrives in all its greasy, dented glory. Ned gives it the side-eye as he directs his unwilling medical assistants to build a fire, then confronts the problem himself. It’s nowhere near the size he needs to properly sanitize the bandages, but he supposes that he’ll have to make it work _somehow_. “Lotta folks use this cavern, or is it just y’all?”

“We’re the only ones who know about it,” the pirate grunts irritably. They’re all just as grouchy as can be, Ned thinks, as if _they’re_ the ones who have been kidnapped and forced into medical servitude under less than sanitary conditions.

“Okay, then,” Ned says, keeping his eye roll to himself as he squats down for a better look at the sand closest to the pools. There isn’t a lot of it, but there’ll be enough for him to use. He gathers up a handful of sand and starts scouring the inside of the pot with it, then cleans off the rim around the outside. Anything else _should_ be properly sanitized by the fire and, anyways, he still needs to figure out a way to hang the bandages until they’re fully dry. “I guess we can just tie some ropes over on the stairs and stretch ‘em out to to that…thing,” he announces, gesturing towards a random plant. “If y’all’re the only ones who _know_ about this place, how’d those vendors get here? You build all the steps, too?”

“Shut your mouth, old man,” the pirate yells. Yes, he’s definitely struck a nerve.

“Hey, now. _I’m_ the only one who can talk about me bein’ decrepit -” Ned ducks the thrown bottle, which shatters a few feet away. “Tough crowd.”

He fills the pot with water and brings it over to the fire, crouching beside it as he makes sure the whole thing won’t collapse. Then Ned sits at a safe distance and rubs at the knee which had made a disturbingly loud popping sound when he’d shifted position. He’s probably torn something in there again, Ned thinks idly as he glances from the fire up to the disinterested faces of his captors. After a while, the water begins to boil and he finally has something to do – and a reason to start ordering the pirates around again.

They’re in the middle of hanging up the third batch of sterilized bandages when it happens.

One minute, Ned’s reaching out to take one end of the wet cloth and the next…well, the entire thing just collapses thanks to the body falling from an overhead ledge. He stares down at the dead sand pirate. “I was almost done,” Ned says in disbelief, slowly looking around at the mass of wet fabric strewn all over the ground. “I cannot fuckin’ believe this shit.”

He can hear yelling and gunfire echoing through the cavern. It seems to be growing louder, which means whatever happening is getting closer, so he reaches down to grab the dead body and pull it over in the direction of Zed’s vendor. “Hey! What’re you-”

Ned glances up at the pirate holding a gun on him. “The fuck does it look like? I’m takin’ him over there to get a freakin’ needle, ain’t I?”

“Oh,” the idiot says, and turns to run in the direction of the yells. This time Ned really does roll his eyes.

He tugs the dead body a little further before dropping to one knee beside the late, unlamented pirate and doing what he likes to call a little ‘salvage’ work. Anyone else would just call it looting, but Ned likes to keep it classy. He rummages through the man’s pockets and transfers any valuables to his own possession, and then grabs the weapons before retreating to the vendor.

The fighting spills out into the main area and while he supposes there must be two different factions at war, Ned wouldn’t be able to tell them apart even with a gun to his head. He leans against his brother’s med vendor and watches them kill each other, trampling all of his hard work into the mud while they’re at it. If he’s lucky, they’ll finish each other off and he can hang out here and take a nap or something before heading back outside.

He’s not lucky.

One of the pirates is walking around when the metaphorical dust finally settles, pausing at each body so that he can stick a sword into them and make sure they’re dead, and then looks up…right at Ned. There’s some awkward eye contact, during which Ned tries to calculate just how fast he’ll have to run if the pirate comes after him, but it soon becomes clear that one of them’s going to have to say _something_. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” the pirate says slowly, like he can’t believe this shit either. “What’s up with you?”

The urge to repeat _not much_ is like an itch in an inconvenient spot while in public, but Ned powers through it. “I got kidnapped this mornin’,” he offers, thinking it wise to distance himself from all the dead bodies so that he won’t become one himself. “Ain’t been the subject of a really good abduction for a while now.”

“These rot wurms kidnapped….oh. _Oh_ ,” the pirate blurts out, looking over at Zed’s vendor and then back at Ned – all while undergoing a face journey that should require at least three separate passport scans. “I don’t suppose…?”

Oh, not again. The saintly Zed steps in to mess up his life one more time. “You need somethin’, son?”

The pirate scoots closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “I, uh, I’ve got this _rash_.”

Fantastic. “Let’s see it,” Ned says wearily.

The rash is nothing short of spectacular, and the story of how the kid managed to contract the thing turns out to be the funniest thing he’s heard all week. Ned starts to forget about his beef with Zed as he advises the young pirate on what needs to be done…as well as preventative measures in case there’s a next time. “I might have half of what’s needed for that cream, but I know I ain’t got the rest. Think I saw some of the plants for it back in Oasis. Well. Not _plants_ , but you know what I’m talkin’ about.”

His new friend eases his rags back down to cover his midsection, looking around furtively. “If I took you there, could you make it for me?”

“Sure could,” Ned says easily. “I’mma need my bag first, though – an’ the damn thing’s back with Blood Tooth.”

“Oh. Well, I think we can still get in there and get it back. Let’s go now.”

They go out past the SS Crapper, now only hanging by a single chain and swinging in the breeze, and pick their way through the maze of dead bodies. Ned starts to wonder if all his hard work has been in vain by the time they reach the hut, and his hunch becomes a certainty when he steps through the door. “Aw, fer – I had to deal with _pus_.” 

“My condolences,” the pirate tells him, and Ned waves his hand in irritable dismissal…before realizing that the other man is standing right beside him and the voice had come from the doorway.

Ned turns around to see that the voice belongs to one of the sexiest women he’s ever seen in his entire life. She might have one leg, one eye and one hand, but she’s totally hot. There’s only one person she can possibly be, and Ned cannot believe his luck. “Well, butter my buns an’ call me a goddamned _biscuit_.”

She tilts her head to one side. “I don’t believe I’ve never met anyone named ‘biscuit’ before.”

“You’re Captain Scarlett.”

“So I’m told. We’ve a vending machine with your face on it,” she says thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose-”

“You bet I would.” He probably should have waited to hear what she was going to ask, first, but Ned’s cock has taken charge of the situation and there’s not a single drop of blood going to his brain right now. God _damn_ , she’s sexy.

Scarlett looks him up and down, taking her time with it. Those full lips purse, and Ned’s so hard he could cut glass. “Then let’s get to it, shall we?”

“What about my rash?” The young pirate butts in, sensing that Ned’s attention has gone somewhere beyond the realm of medical assistance.

“It ain’t gonna kill you,” Ned says absently, eyes still locked onto Captain Scarlett.

She winks at him, or at least he thinks she does because you usually need _two_ eyes for that sort of thing, and glides out of the hovel like she’s leaving a ballroom in an ECHO drama.

Wow.

He officially takes back everything nasty he’s ever thought about Zed. This has been the best day of his _life_.


End file.
